


Chuutaimori / 虫体盛り

by hectocotyle



Series: liquidmantis shenanigans [8]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Asexual Character, Biting, Food Kink, Human Furniture, Nonbinary Character, Other, body sushi, for a given definition of 'human'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hectocotyle/pseuds/hectocotyle
Summary: It's Valentine's Day '05 and Mantis, bless his brave little heart, just wants to do something nice for his boss.[For a liquidmantis nantaimori wish from the2017 Supply Drop.]





	Chuutaimori / 虫体盛り

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PunishedPyotr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunishedPyotr/gifts).



> hurricane harvey may have wrecked my house but it takes more than that to kill a cockroach :P

It's too bad time travel isn't one of his powers, because Mantis needs to hunt down the guy who invented sushi so he can punch him in the dick.

Now, Liquid—Liquid is besotted with the foul stuff. He convinced Mantis to try a bite of eel nigiri on one of their outings to the mainland. Mantis spent the rest of the afternoon hunched over a toilet bowl, groaning and hypersalivating as he struggled not to hork up his kidneys at the taste of his own fish-burps.

"Smelly seafood." Flat on his back on the conference table, he scowls at his deeply unattractive reflection in the full-length mirror levitating above him. "What's the _appeal_?"

A chill ripples through him, and he has to use telekinesis to hold his body still so he doesn't shiver. There's a good reason for that. Apart from his mask, his leather harness, and an assortment of sushi arranged atop banana leaf squares, Mantis is naked.

"I'm sorry, did I say 'good' reason?" he grumbles, depositing the final salmon roll onto—he doesn't want to think about it. "You are in the nude. You. Even with these leaves covering you Adam-and-Eve-style, one look and you'd have scared the serpent himself out of the garden for all eternity. Or at least sent him scrambling for the nearest barf bag."

A psychic prod here and there to keep things symmetrical, and his preparations are complete. (Only then does it occur to him that he set down the banana leaves in the pattern of a Y-incision, like they use in autopsies. How appropriate for a guy who looks half-dead on a good day.) He lays the mirror aside, inhales a bracing lungful of air.

Now all that's left is to issue the invitation.

<Dinner's ready,> he tells Liquid via telepathy. <Northeast conference room, same as we discussed. Ground rules: no moving the leaves off my junk, no dropping your pants, no touching yourself.>

<No what, no what, no _what_? >

He grins in spite of himself. <Oh, didn't I tell you? This is a very special dinner, with a very special dinner plate. Happy Valentine's Day.>

He lets that sink in.

Liquid runs like his life depends on it. Hell, Mantis wonders if he's ever run like this even when his life _has_ depended on it. The big galoot stampedes right over a couple of people hapless enough to be in his path, including an incensed Ocelot.

Mantis flings the door open with his mind before Liquid can explode through it like he's trying out for a SWAT unit. As it slides shut behind him with a muffled pneumatic hiss, he drinks in the once-in-a-blue-moon view of his boyfriend decked out in little more than his birthday suit, his breathing harsh and erratic from his gold-winning Olympic sprint.

<Aren't you freezing?>

Mantis twists his neck around to look straight at him, brow furrowed. <Really? That's the first thing you have to say?>

Liquid takes a step forward, then another, unhurried now, his half-lidded gaze lingering over choice parts of the living platter laid out before him with such brazen greed that Mantis has to avert his eyes.

<I have to be cold. You're supposed to keep sushi chilled. For sanitary reasons. My body heat would mess it up.> Great, now he's rambling from nerves. Way to set the mood.

A blur, a surprisingly light thud, and all at once his boss is kneeling over him on the table, straddling his bare hips. Easy to forget a man Liquid's size can be so agile.

Mantis's heart stumbles over its next several beats.

<This won't do,> Liquid says softly. He takes firm hold of either side of Mantis's ribcage, which doesn't do a whole lot to de-escalate the stuttering-heart situation. <I'll just have to eat quickly, won't I?>

Down plunges his head to snap up the first mouthful. At no point in the process of planning this dinner did Mantis kid himself Liquid would have the patience to sit there politely picking each individual piece of sushi off him with chopsticks, but geez! Boss's teeth graze his fragile collarbones, his jutting ribs without an ounce of restraint. Delicious heat erupts from every spot he's nipped, flickering down through his torso to pool in the pit of his belly.

All notions of lying still spilling out of his brain like the finest sand through a sieve, Mantis thrusts his chest into the touch and lets slip a " _Fuck_ , Eli!"

Between noisy, sloppy swallows, Liquid rumbles his approval deep in his immense chest.

With Mantis arching and gasping beneath him, he powers through both upper branches of the "Y-incision" in record time, then pulls back, flushed and panting. He looks Mantis over as his tongue flicks out to collect a bit of rice clinging to the corner of his mouth. <Should I...?>

Mantis tangles both hands in that wild blond mane and yanks him back down.

Feasting a fevered trail down his sunken stomach, Liquid noses aside a piece of banana leaf and slips his wet tongue into the belly button. Mantis lets out a choked cry and tightens his grip.

Closing in on his pelvis now, and he's forced to clamp down hard on his ever-nagging bashfulness. To that end, Liquid's brain offers up such helpful stray thoughts as _god, i'd love to take his cock allll the way down my throat_. (In his defense, he does glance up from his gorging to mutter a quick "Sorry.") His head snakes down to very delicately pick up _that_ salmon roll in his teeth—for once without touching Mantis—and he feels some of the tension drain from his wasted muscles.

Liquid skims over his body once more, top to bottom, meticulously licking up every little scrap he scattered in his feeding frenzy as Mantis squirms with pleasure. Then he pulls Mantis onto his lap, sweeps the leaves off him and bundles him up in his own much-too-big trenchcoat.

<This was the sweetest thing I never want you to do again,> he says. Mantis stiffens, and he quickly adds, <Don't misunderstand me: I want to eat off your naked body every day for the rest of my life. Multiple times a day, preferably. But from now on, can we go with foods that don't require you to flash-freeze yourself into an Ice Age fossil?>

Mantis grins. <Like you're in any position to lecture me on that topic, Mr. Struts Around in the Snow with No Shirt On.>

<I can get away with it because I'm genetically engineered to be unnaturally tough. Plenty of meat on these bones, too. Yours, on the other hand...> He gives Mantis's protruding ribs a gentle poke.

<Point taken.> He pulls the coat tighter about him, then presses up close to Liquid, savoring his warmth.

And jerks away as a deafening growl rips through his boss's stomach.

<You're still hungry,> he says in disbelief.

Liquid pats his gluttonous gut with a self-satisfied smirk. <Like I said. Big boy.>

Mantis's eyes flick to one side. <...You know, it's just not Valentine's Day without chocolate. Of which we happen to have a secret stash. If you don't mind it getting all melty.>

He doesn't see Liquid brighten, but he _feels_ it, pulsing across their psychic link like a beam of sunshine slicing through fog, and reminding him why he went to all this trouble in the first place.

 


End file.
